


too many tied to the bang, bang, bang

by likewinning



Series: little beasts [25]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Drug Use, Gunplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 13:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4523694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knows a few of Tim's tells by now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	too many tied to the bang, bang, bang

He was going to wait. Tim asked him when they first started, but Roy kept putting it off while they shot arrows between bong hits, while Tim carved up and down his ribs until he learned control. But one day Roy leaves a gun sitting out on the coffee table, and when he comes back from shooting up in the bathroom, Tim's kneeling on the couch, aiming it at him.

Roy stops in the doorway for a second, and maybe it's the drugs, maybe it's just his usual overconfidence, but he steps right up to Tim, takes both of Tim's hands in his and drags them up so the barrel of the gun sits under his jaw.

"Be more brains than blood you do it that way, babe," Roy says. "Besides," he adds, pushing his hands through Tim's hair like he doesn't have a loaded gun pointed at him, "the safety's on."

Tim stares up at him. Those dead eyes don't show a thing, but when he licks his lips, his mouth trembles just a little, like that first time he carved into Roy, like when they took mushrooms one weekend and Roy had to wrap him in some ratty old blanket to stop him from shivering.

He knows a few of Tim's tells by now.

Still, Tim clicks the safety off, and Roy waits him out. Pushes his hands through Tim's hair, hums a Pixies song, feels his phone buzz in his pocket, and then Tim lowers the gun, clicks the safety back on. When Roy looks down Tim's hard, and Roy slips the gun out of Tim's hand, starts searching around the house for bullets and beer bottles and the rest of his guns, and then he grabs Tim's hand and pulls him off the couch, says, "You think that makes you hard, wait 'til you shoot one."

*

They take Tim's car, and Roy directs Tim to an empty field a couple of miles outside of Gotham. He and Dick end up here sometimes when they've got too much energy from too much coke, just need to hear the sound of gunshots to stay grounded. Roy tried to teach Dick how to use a bow once, but the fucker got too impatient, so while Roy got drunk Dick did cartwheels across the grass.

Roy makes targets out of beer bottles for them, and then he pulls Tim back, guides him on how far apart to set his feet and shoulders, how to hold his arms, how to aim. "It'll be loud," Roy murmurs, tilting his head down to kiss the back of Tim's neck, between his shoulders where Tim always tenses up.

"It'll be different, too, with moving targets," Roy says. "But -"

"Shut up," Tim tells him, and fires off a shot. He wings the top of a bottle, nothing more, and Roy puts his hands over Tim's like before, says, "Uh-uh. Little higher. Now squeeze." He pulls one hand away, lowers it to Tim's side, slipping his fingers under Tim's shirt. Tim fires another shot, and this time he shatters one of the bottles and doesn't pause, just pivots and aims at the next one. By the time they leave, there's broken glass everywhere and Roy's ears are ringing.

"You did good," Roy says as they're walking to the car, and Tim looks back at him, says, "I know." Roy forgets, sometimes, that Tim doesn't need approval the way that he always did; from what he can tell, Tim's parents are all but nowhere. Not that Tim ever says a word about them, or much of anything actually.

Once, when Tim stayed late on a weeknight, Roy asked him if he didn't have curfew. Tim just stared him down, wiped his blade on Roy's t-shirt and says, "What makes you think anyone knows I'm gone?"

Still, when they get in the car Tim pushes Roy's seat back, throws himself in Roy's lap and starts grinding their dicks together through their jeans. Tim's completely hard, has been for ages, and Roy grabs one of the guns, a .9 millimeter he stole from one of his ex-dealers, and drags it over Tim's cheek. Tim shivers, bites down on his lip, and Roy slides the gun over Tim's bottom lip until Tim's eyes roll back and he comes without a sound.

"So fuckin' pretty," Roy says. He sets the gun back down, opens his jeans and tugs on his dick, watches Tim watching _him._ "Just wanna take you out, watch you set the whole world on fire. Well," Roy amends, grinning, "Maybe not me."

Tim slips his thumb into Roy's mouth, and his expression is still blank, but Roy hears the tilt in his voice when he says, "I wouldn't."

Roy comes too hard, too fast, and Tim brings Roy's hand up to his mouth and licks it clean right down to the knuckle.

When Tim drops Roy back at home, Tim doesn't say thank you or when he'll see Roy again. He never does. Sometimes he's there, and sometimes he's not. Tim does kiss him goodbye, but then, maybe that's just so that Roy forgets all of his guns in Tim's car.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [and I can't stop when it comes to you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4925953) by [ohmcgee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee)




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